The Days Drag On
by warblingaway
Summary: AU. The day Blaine was discharged from the army, he knew that nothing was going to be the same. But what he didn't expect was that Kurt Hummel, his fellow soldier's stepbrother, would manage to make his world a little bit brighter.
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea ever since the spoiler came out that Finn might be joining the army.**

**So I hope you enjoy it :) The chapters are going to be shorter than my other WIP's (at least for now)**

**Spoilers for Blaine's siblings in upcoming episodes (even though you all probably already know.)**

**The inspiration came from the song White Horse by Taylor Swift...I'm not sure why, but I think it gives the kind of gives the proper tone for the story.**

**I hope you enjoy it :) It's kind of like a prologue of sorts, just introducing the idea and stuff.**

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><p><em>I<em>_'m not a princess  
>This ain't a fairy tale<br>I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet  
>Lead her up the stairwell<em>

_This ain't Hollywood  
>This is a small town<br>I was a dreamer before you went and let me down_

_Now it's too late for you and your white horse  
>To come around<em>

_-White Horse, Taylor Swift_

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><p>Blaine Anderson couldn't tell you about the day he was drafted into the army at just 18 years old.<p>

He couldn't tell you how many tears his mother had shed, or how sad and forlorn his brother had looked.

He couldn't tell you how his father had clapped him on the shoulder and said that it was about time he became a man.

He couldn't tell you how as he was boarding the plane, he'd embraced his mother in a long hug and told her it was going to be okay, that he was going to come back.

Or how his older brother Cooper had sobbed into his shoulder, smacking his arm lightly, joking about how he had better come back for his wedding in a year.

He couldn't tell you how he'd simply shaken his father's hand, a stern, firm handshake that came from years and years of his father doing the same, simple gesture with countless other lawyers.

Blaine Anderson could tell you none of those things. They were things only he knew, things he kept to himself.

He wouldn't tell you about the day he got shot in the shoulder, or how it had permanently stiffened his shoulder, causing him to be discharged immediately.

And he would be lying if he told you he wasn't relieved about that.

He would also be lying if he said that his three years in war hadn't hardened him, that they hadn't changed him.

But he knew that they hadn't changed him in the same way it affected other people. He didn't have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, nor was he any less emotional than before.

It was just something about watching someone else die by his own hand that changed him. It showed him how valuable life was – ironic enough, since he took someone else's life – and how any moment could be your last.

Blaine also realized that he never wanted to cause anyone harm ever again.

So Blaine would tell you, but only in secret, that he was glad he was discharged from the army.

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><p>Stepping off of the plane, Blaine knew he stuck out. He was still in his uniform with his arm in a sling in the middle of Ohio.<p>

Glancing around, Blaine saw several other soldiers all surrounded by their families, something in the back of his mind telling him they'd done another draft, and that these were the new men, getting ready to board the plane that was going to take them to a new kind of hell.

These new soldiers glanced at him, bowing their heads in respect as they took in his wounded arm, the scars on his face, the firm, broad way he held himself. Each of them made and held eye contact briefly, Blaine nodding to each of them, wishing them a silent good luck.

No one was waiting at the airport for him, because no one knew he was coming home. It was a rather rash decision on his base's part. As soon as the words 'partially immobile' had come out of the medic's mouth, the general was signing his papers of discharge and setting him up for the next flight to Ohio. There was no time to contact any family or friends – and whether or not his friends would even remember him after three years oversees.

But he was back now, and as he made his way out of the airport, he was thankful he didn't have any bags. He wouldn't have been able to carry them, anyway.

As he neared the entrance, Blaine glanced behind him, watching as all of the newly drafted soldiers boarded the plane. He could barely remember the day that had been him leaving his family behind. He vaguely remembered how his hands had been shaking, how hard his heart had been thumping in his chest.

But that was the past. He was back now, and he wasn't going back.

Blaine, whilst turning back around, crashed into another body. He hissed with pain as the body jostled his shoulder, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from collapsing onto the floor due to the searing pain in his arm.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, I'm just in a hurry and my plane's about to leave, and I really can't miss it…"

Blaine opened his eyes, his eyebrows raising as he took in the figure in front of him. He was probably around Blaine's age, a good few feet taller, but wearing a similar uniform. Blaine understood immediately, he really couldn't afford to miss the plane.

"I understand," Blaine said firmly, nodding his head at him. "I don't even want to know what would happen if you were to miss it."

The man laughed, but Blaine could see the stress in his eyes. It was the same stress that was in every soldier's eye every day – fear of dying, fear of not returning home, fear of leaving loved ones behind.

Blaine clasped his shoulder – even if it was a ways above his own shoulders – and started to continue his exiting of the airport.

"Wait," the man said. Blaine turned around, only to find him jogging back over to Blaine. "This is going to sound weird…I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name."

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine replied smoothly.

"I'm Finn Hudson," he replied smoothly. "Anyway," he went on. "This is going to sound weird considering I've barely talked to you, but you seem like a good guy, and…"

"Just spit it out, Finn," Blaine laughed, and _god, _he hadn't actually laughed in ages.

"Look, my stepbrother…He's around our age and – he doesn't have anyone. Our parents died in a car accident a year ago, and then I got drafted and…He's all by himself, Blaine."

Blaine nodded, but he had no idea where Finn was trying to go with this.

"Can you – Could you maybe look after him?" Finn asked. "I'm all he has anymore, and – I'm not even going to be there for him."

Blaine looked at Finn, his creased forehead and the fear, the worry swimming in his eyes. "Sure," Blaine replied. "You don't think he'll find it weird that a stranger is suddenly befriending him?"

Finn laughed, but it didn't fully reach his eyes. "Oh, he will," he said. "He definitely will. But he should open up to you eventually."

Blaine nodded, and accepted the piece of paper with the address of what Blaine assumed was his brother on it.

"His name's Kurt Hummel," Finn said after a moment, glancing at his watch anxiously. "But – shit I should have told you this first – he's gay. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to if it does," Finn rushed out.

Blaine's eyes widened because, in all his years of living in Ohio, he thought he was the only person subjected to being gay in Ohio.

"That's okay," Blaine said softly, meeting Finn's eyes. "I – I'm gay too."

"Oh," Finn stuttered for a moment before nodding. "Well then, don't like, try and corrupt him or anything. He only had a few boyfriends during his brief year in New York before our parents died, and –"

"Finn, don't worry," Blaine chuckled. "I'll look out for him, alright? I'll tell him you asked me to."

Finn nodded, clasping Blaine's good shoulder gently before turning towards where the others were boarding the plane.

"Oh, and Finn?" Blaine said.

The man turned around, looking at Blaine expectantly.

"Be careful," Blaine said slowly. "It's rough, where you're going."

Finn gulped and nodded, eyeing Blaine's shoulder.

"Bullet to the shoulder," Blaine explained, knowing that's what Finn was thinking. "Partially immobile now."

"So if I were to come home, all I would need to do was get shot?"

Blaine looked back up at Finn, his eyes hard. "Not everyone is as lucky as I am," he said, his voice stern and low. "I don't suggest that's what you do."

Finn nodded again and then turned to board the plane.

Blaine clasped the slip of paper with Kurt Hummel's address in his hand, wondering what in the world he had just gotten himself into.

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><p><strong>So?<strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this :) I've got quite a few chapters already written, and this fic is quite heavy on the Blangst.**

**So...Review? Let me know what you all think :) The chapters so far for this have been slightly shorter than my other WIP's (but, and I'm not making any promises here, that means that I can write them faster)**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Edit: I WILL be continuing this :) I already have about 15,000 words already written.**


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine debated whether or not he should call his parents as he drove through Ohio on the city bus. Well, he knew that he _should, _but he didn't know if he _wanted _to. He realized that he had to soon – eventually, his mother's letters would be mailed back, causing her to go into a fit of panic.

Deciding on a whim, Blaine pulled out the phone he'd been given and called his brother. The phone rang a few times, and, once he heard his brother's voice, Blaine had to fight everything inside of him not to break down.

"Hello?" He said. "Who is this?"

Blaine gulped, having to force himself to talk. "Blaine," he whispered. "It's Blaine."

Cooper, on the end of the line, was silent for a few minutes. Blaine briefly imagined him dropping the phone in shock, his brother's eyes widening as he stared at his phone on the floor before rushing to pick it up.

"Blaine?" Cooper asked, his voice soft. "Is that really you?"

Blaine nodded, even though Cooper couldn't see him. "Yeah," he said, his voice cracking a little. "It's me."

"You're back?" Cooper went on, his tone almost disbelieving.

Blaine instantly felt guilty. He hadn't taken any of his leaves, with hopes that they would let him return home earlier because of it. That, however, resulted in him ultimately missing his brother's wedding.

"Yeah," Blaine said again. "They don't want you in the army when you've been shot in the shoulder."

Blaine really should have anticipated Cooper's reaction, but he hadn't.

"You were – YOU WERE SHOT?" Cooper yelled into the phone, and Blaine could hear his voice cracking. "God, Blaine, you could have _died _and you – have you called Mom and Dad?"

"No," Blaine responded. "You're the first person I've called."

Cooper rattled off his address then. "Come over," he said. "Now. Vanessa will be home in a few hours. We'll make you dinner, and call Mom and Dad and just celebrate you coming home."

"Okay," Blaine agreed. But then he remembered the piece of paper in his hand. He opened it and stared at the address for a moment before giving his attention back to his brother. "Actually," he said. "I need to make a stop first."

Cooper, if he was curious, didn't let on. "Okay," he said. "I'll call Mom and Dad and have them come over. Just stop by when you can."

Blaine agreed, chatting with his brother for a few more minutes.

"Blaine?" Cooper said as their conversation neared an end.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're okay."

Blaine took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Me too, Coop," he whispered. "I'm glad I'm okay, too."

They said their goodbyes then, Blaine's bus nearing where he knew he was getting off.

The bus driver nodded in respect at Blaine – who realized that he really needed to get out of his uniform – as he got off of the bus.

He wandered down the streets of the subdivision, searching for the house with the address Finn had given him.

He knew where he was. He'd performed at McKinley High School with his show choir when he was a teenager, the school having hosted Regionals a few times.

Things really were different while he was in high school, attending the Dalton Academy School for boys. Everything was different.

Blaine stopped abruptly as the now familiar address appeared on a house. God, was he really doing this? He was really about to walk up to a complete stranger's house and introduce himself. It was insane. Nobody ever did things like this.

But he promised Finn. He'd promised Finn he'd look after his brother, and when a soldier made a promise to another soldier, the promise was always kept.

Removing his hat and shoving it into his pants pocket, Blaine took a deep breath and walked up to the front door, hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

There was no backing out now.

Blaine waited a few moments before the door started to open. He held his breath, not really knowing what to expect. He didn't know how Kurt would react, what he would say, what he would do. The ball was up in the air, and there was nothing Blaine could do to control the situation. It was all up to Kurt.

And then the door was all the way open, a slender boy with bright blue eyes staring at Blaine. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his figure flawless and his skinny jeans accentuating his form in all the right places.

Blaine gulped and met his bright blue eyes. He looked around the same age as Blaine, maybe a little older, but signs of stress were present in his face.

But he was giving Blaine a quizzical look, one perfect eyebrow raised in curiosity at him.

"Err," Blaine started, not sure of what he should say. "Um…"

The boy laughed – a beautiful, melodious sound that Blaine thought just about stopped his heart.

"Finn sent you, didn't he?" The boy asked.

And, if Blaine wasn't already in a state of shock, that voice sent him over the edge. His voice was clear and pristine and so very, very unique.

Blaine nodded, still not sure how Kurt was going to take this.

"I should have known he would do something like that," Kurt said, sighing and shaking his head a little. "Find a discharged soldier to look after me."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said abruptly. "I – I shouldn't have come. I apologize, and I can just go –"

"No," Kurt interrupted him, stepping aside. "Come in. From the looks of it, you just got off of a plane from wherever it was you were stationed. You probably haven't eaten a real meal in a few years."

"If you're sure," Blaine said. "I – I don't want to impose."

"Just come in," Kurt said. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Blaine," he replied as he walked into Kurt's house. "Blaine Anderson."

Blaine looked around as Kurt closed the door behind him. The house was clearly lived in – and it looked like it had been for years.

He took in the pictures on the mantel – some of what he assumed was Kurt as a child with a young, blonde haired woman.

And that's when it hit Blaine.

This was Kurt's house. This was where he had grown up.

Blaine gulped, not wanting to bring up the fact that he already knew about Kurt's family situation and that Finn had told him pretty much everything.

"Well, Blaine," Kurt said as he walked into the kitchen. "What can I make you? Anything you want?"

Blaine's mouth began to water at the thought of having something – anything – besides the dull, grey food he'd eaten for the past three years. "Something greasy and warm sounds amazing," he says after a moment.

Kurt laughed and strolled back into the living room, a phone in hand. "How about we order a pizza?" He said.

Blaine's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly. Kurt laughed again and dialed a number, quickly placing the order before pocketing his phone.

"Before you get too comfortable," Kurt said slowly, perching himself on the edge of the armchair. "I should probably tell you that I'm gay." He paused, gauging Blaine's reaction. "And this is Ohio. So if you're not comfortable with that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, because I've dealt with enough of that kind of hate to last me a lifetime."

"I know," Blaine said, flopping down onto the couch and toeing off his boots. "And it doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't?" Kurt asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"Nope," Blaine responded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Might be because I myself am gay. Can't really judge you for it, can I?"

Kurt's mouth dropped open, his blue eyes shining a little.

Blaine laughed and shifted his shoulder uncomfortably. "Don't sound so surprised," he said. "Just because I'm wearing a military uniform doesn't mean I don't fit the stereotype."

Kurt chuckled before settling himself in the chair he was previously perched on. "Do you want a change of clothes?" He asked. "I'm sure Finn has something around here that should fit you."

"Sure," Blaine nodded. Kurt ambled off for a moment, leaving Blaine alone in the living room.

He wondered why Kurt was so accepting of a total stranger just showing up at his house. It didn't make sense, but, as he glanced around, Blaine put the little pieces of Kurt's life together.

And he realized that, true to Finn's word, Kurt truly had no one. There were only pictures of what Blaine assumed was Kurt's father, others of either the young blonde woman or an older, short haired woman.

No pictures of friends – at least not in this room.

Kurt lived in this house meant for a family, completely alone.

And, god, if Blaine were ever to be completely alone like that, he would accept random strangers into his house, too.

Kurt came back with a change of clothes, handing them over to Blaine. "The shirt might be a little big," he said. "And the pants a little long, but they're the smallest I could find."

Blaine nodded and accepted the clothes with his good arm, glancing down at his arm in the sling awkwardly.

How exactly was he supposed to get a shirt on with only one good arm?

"Umm," he said after a moment of just staring at the clothes pile in his hands. "I – I might need a little help."

Kurt glanced down at his sling before understanding. "Oh," he said. "Um…come to the bathroom."

Blaine nodded and followed Kurt into the bathroom. Kurt set the clothes down on the closed toilet before turning to Blaine, slowly taking his sling off.

"Just – don't jostle your arm too much, alright?"

Blaine nodded, the feeling of his arm practically limp next to him frightening him a little. At least when it was in the sling, it was just like he had a broken arm or something. But when it wasn't, the fact that he could barely move it plastered itself in Blaine's mind.

Kurt slowly unfolded the t-shirt he had grabbed Blaine, setting it down before reaching out tentatively and unbuttoning his jacket, slowly sliding it off. He then grabbed the hem of Blaine's shirt, hesitantly pausing and looking up at Blaine. "Is this okay?" He asked.

Blaine nodded, so Kurt slowly began raising it up. Blaine looped his good arm out of the hole, Kurt gently tugging it over his head and then slowly sliding it down his good arm, careful not to jostle it too much. Kurt picked up the discarded shirt and jacket, carefully folding them and placing them in a separate pile. He picked up the t-shirt and then turned back to Blaine, his eyes roaming his broadly defined chest a little. Blaine smirked, noting the small blush on Kurt's cheeks as he took in his broad shoulders, the large muscles that extended from his biceps, the –

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered, his eyes widening.

Blaine followed his gaze, leading directly to the wound from where the bullet had impaled him.

"You – you were shot," Kurt whispered, his eyes wide and panicked.

"It's war, Kurt," Blaine said. "Stuff like that happens."

Kurt gulped, but his eyes remained fixed on the small hole in Blaine's shoulder. "It – is it okay?"

Blaine nodded, knowing that the wound looked worse than it actually was. "I should probably get to the doctor's for it, just to make sure it isn't infected," he said. "But the only lasting damage is that my arm is now partially immobile."

"Is that why you were discharged?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine nodded slowly. "You can't quite hold a gun with one arm."

Kurt slowly regained his composure, but his eyes still wandered to Blaine's wound every now and then. He slowly lifted the shirt over Blaine's head, Blaine pulling his one arm through as Kurt gently lifted his injured one into the hole.

"Why isn't it wrapped or anything?" Kurt whispered once the shirt was on.

"Once they get the bleeding to stop, there's really no reason for them to continue wrapping it gauze," Blaine said. "Especially after I got my discharge. They could have cared less if my arm fell off."

"That's awful," Kurt said softly.

"It's not all butterflies and daisies over there, Kurt," Blaine said softly, his eyes never leaving the frightened boy's face.

Kurt looked up to Blaine's expression, his eyes wide and panicked.

And then Blaine remembered that his brother had just been deployed, and he realized that he really shouldn't have been saying all of these things.

"Kurt," Blaine rushed out. "I'm sorry – I – Finn'll be fine. He'll be okay."

"You can't know that," Kurt whispered. "He – He could get shot. But – But he might not be as lucky as you."

"He still has a few months of training before he even goes into combat," Blaine said, trying to calm the boy down. "And, if he takes his leaves, he'll be back before then, too."

"If he takes his leaves?"

Blaine gulped, slowly taking his pants off in order to replace them with the baggy sweatpants Kurt had given him. "I didn't," Blaine whispered, gently replacing his sling and walking out of the bathroom, settling back onto Kurt's couch.

"Why not?"

"I had nothing to come back for."

Kurt fell silent after that, and Blaine could feel his eyes on him. If someone would have told him that he would be sitting in a stranger's living room, pouring his soul out to them, he would have laughed and suggested they visit a mental asylum.

"What does Finn have to come back to?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt, whose eyes were worried. "You," he said simply. "If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have asked me to look out for you."

The doorbell rang then, Kurt grabbing a wad of cash and quickly paying for the pizza.

The smell wafted throughout the room, Blaine briefly considering stealing one of the boxes out of Kurt's hand and just devouring the whole thing.

"Come and eat," Kurt said from the kitchen. "I can hear you drooling from in here."

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><p><strong>So hi :) I hope you guys are enjoying this so far! <strong>

**I don't have an updating schedule planned for this fic, so it'll just kind of...happen when it happens.**

**Thank you all so much for you favorites and subscriptions and reviews :) You honestly have no idea how pleased it makes me that you're intrigued by this idea :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

**Drop a review? I'm a little hesitant about this whole idea because it is a little on the obscure side...**


	3. Chapter 3

**So while last chapter was kind of a relief from the angst...this one is...not so much.**

**And okay...some stuff is going on right now. Let's just say my parents found my tumblr and they arent' happy. I don't know what I'm going to do, but if it's suddenly gone, that's why. I'll move to meandering-megan and will still be around, silently stalking the fandom but...yeah. I don't know if i'm going to continue writing or what not, but I'm going to try. If not, I'll post what I have of this fic...**

**I'll keep you all updated...**

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><p>When Blaine left Kurt's house, he felt almost guilty about leaving the boy alone. But he had plans to see his family – his family who hadn't seen him in three years.<p>

Kurt had thanked him, for both being there for him and for watching out for him like Finn asked. He didn't want Finn to have to worry about him with everything else that would be on his mind.

He did a quick MapQuest of where Cooper's house was, sighing in relief when it only turned out to be fifteen minutes away by foot.

Grabbing his uniform, he thanked Kurt again for the food and clothes, giving him a soft smile as he closed the door behind him.

A fifteen minute walk usually wouldn't be any sort of hardship for Blaine, who had spent the last three years trekking long distances and carrying pounds of equipment.

But it was kind of strenuous with an arm in a sling, but it was infinitely more peaceful than any kind of walking he'd done while oversees.

He'd promised Kurt that he would see him soon, Blaine shoving his hand into his pants pocket and feeling the slip of paper with Kurt's phone number on it, reassuring himself that it was still there.

He was glad Finn Hudson had run into him at the airport, that he had trusted him enough to tell a complete stranger to watch out for his brother.

Kurt was different. Blaine had never met anyone like him before. He was spunky and feisty, but he showed signs of wear and tear, of having gone through so much more than his 22 years of life should have endured.

They hadn't talked about any of that, mainly just about Finn and war, Blaine trying to reassure Kurt that Finn would be fine and that he would come back. But it did make him feel guilty. He couldn't promise anything like that. He'd seen countless men die – men with families, men with homes and wives and children, men who had something to go home for.

There were never any guarantees.

But, like Blaine had told him, Finn was up for training for the first few months, no real combat actually involved until they passed the weeks upon weeks of strenuous training.

Blaine remembered that all too clearly. He remembered sitting in his bunk at night, willing his exhausted body to go to sleep when it just wouldn't, when he knew he was going to be woken up in a mere two hours. He remembered listening to the younger soldiers sob, the ones who, like him, had been drafted at 18.

He remembered himself almost crying, just barely being able to pull himself together. But, unlike the other boys, he didn't cry because he missed his family and was scared. He just cried because he was scared.

Sure, he had missed Cooper, and he was worried about his mom. But they didn't need him. He was actually surprised when his mother had shown the signs of mourning and weeping that she did when he got his letter of service. Ever since he came out to his parents, it seemed as if they wanted nothing to do with him.

Blaine only hoped that this dinner would be difference, that maybe the three years they spent apart would make his parents see him differently, maybe the three years of constant worry would have sparked some kind of love and affection into them.

As he neared his brother's house, Blaine was mentally preparing himself for the worst. He knew that they wouldn't yell at him or anything, after all, he was 99% sure Cooper had told him he'd been shot. His mother would coo over him, ask him if he was okay, brush the hair out of his eyes.

But his father – there was no way of ever knowing what he was going to do or how he was going to react. For all Blaine knew, he would somehow make the fact that he'd been shot Blaine's fault.

"You should have been more careful," he could hear his father saying.

"Maybe if you had been paying more attention during your training, that wouldn't have happened."

"If you were faster…"

"If your shoulders weren't so broad…"

"If your height didn't make you such an easy target…"

"They could probably smell that you were gay."

Those ones had always been the worst – when his father would blame every bad thing that happened in his life on the fact that Blaine was gay.

He didn't know what to expect, but, nearing the front door of his brother's house, he knew he was about to find out.

Knocking on the door with his good arm, Blaine stood there and waited patiently for someone to answer the door.

Vanessa's face appeared, her smile breaking out in a grin. Blaine had always like Vanessa. He and Cooper had been high school sweethearts, meeting Cooper's freshman year and not getting their acts together for two years.

They'd gotten engaged a mere six months before Blaine was drafted, Blaine, at the time, promising to be Cooper's best man.

That was the one promise he hadn't kept. And he regretted it completely. But by the time it came around and he was given the opportunity for a three week leave, Blaine didn't want to take it. He didn't want to go back to Ohio and become attached again, didn't want to have to deal with everyone's somberness when he left.

So he stayed. It was just easier.

"Blaine," Vanessa breathed, grabbing his good arm and dragging him into the house. Her slim arms wrapped around him, her hands forcing his head into her shoulder as she gently smoothed down his already growing hair.

Something else he missed while at war – his hair.

"Oh my god, Blaine," Vanessa said when she pulled away, tears glittering in her eyes as she smiled at him. "Look at you. You're all grown up."

Blaine smiled and nodded, ducking his head a bit. "It has been three years," he said.

"Three years too long."

Blaine sighed and looked up at her. "I – I'm sorry about the wedding," he said softly. "I just – I couldn't come back."

"I know, Blaine," she whispered. "I understand."

She brushed the bangs out of his eyes, her own wandering down to his shoulder. "H-How is it?" She stammered. "Coop said that – that you were shot?"

Blaine nodded stiffly. "The reason for my discharge," he said slowly. "They don't want a guy who can't hold a gun."

He saw Vanessa swallow a lump in her throat before she dragged him into the dining room.

"Cooper," Vanessa said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Blaine's here."

Blaine's eyes wandered over to where Vanessa was talking, feeling his body start to shake a little as he watched his brother turn in his chair slowly.

And then Cooper was running at him, throwing his arms around his torso and sobbing into Blaine's shoulder.

"Blaine," he sobbed. "I – You're actually here."

"Yeah, Coop," Blaine soothed, rubbing his brother's back gently with his hand. "I am."

Cooper continued to sob, his grip on Blaine tightening. "I never should have let you go," he murmured once he pulled away. "I should have stopped you or - or offered to go in your place."

Blaine laughed a little, a few tears streaming out of his own eyes. "I don't think it works like that, Coop," he said. "It's not like the Hunger Games."

Cooper laughed at Blaine's reference to what Blaine knew was his favorite book series.

"When you called," Cooper said after a moment. "And the number wasn't one I recognized I – I thought it was someone calling to tell me that you were dead."

"Coop –" Blaine started, but his brother went on.

"And then – and then it was _you,"_ he said. "It was your voice, telling me you were _home _for good."

The two brothers just stared at each other then, only moving when Vanessa walked back into the room with her hands full of platters of food.

"Mom should be here shortly," Cooper said once the three of them were seated at the table. But there was something off about his expression, the way he wouldn't meet Blaine's eyes.

"And Dad?"

"He told her he didn't want to come."

Blaine nodded and took a deep breath, trying to control himself. He reassured himself that it was better his father wasn't coming, that everything would be so much more peaceful without him there.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Cooper whispered after a few minutes of silence. "I – I thought he might come around."

"It's fine," Blaine said stiffly, his expression emotionless, like he'd been trained.

He saw Cooper give Vanessa an anxious look, the two of them striking up a different conversation.

The doorbell rang then, Cooper abruptly standing up to go let their mother in then.

Blaine stood up, straightening the t-shirt Kurt had lent him and adjusting his sling a bit.

And then his mother came into view, her eyes lighting up as she saw Blaine.

"Blaine," she breathed. "My boy."

Being gone three years may have not changed things with his father, but it definitely changed things with his mother.

"My baby," she whispered as she came closer, stopping a few feet away. "You're all grown up."

And then Blaine was launching himself into his mother's arms, his good arm wrapping itself around her neck as the tears leaked out of his eyes and out onto her shoulder. He ignored the pain coming from his other shoulder, focusing on his mother and the reality that he was here, that he was home, in his mother's arms.

"It's okay, baby," she cooed in his ear. "You're home now. You're safe."

Blaine stayed wrapped up in his mother's arms for a while longer, feeling his hair become damp from his mother's tears.

"I missed you, Mom," he choked out. "I missed you."

"I know, honey," she cooed. "I know."

This was why Blaine hadn't come back. This would have happened every time. He would have run into his mother or brother's arms and cried, and then have to leave again in a few days' time.

But right now, he didn't. He was there for good. And it was definitely worth the wait.

"I brought your car," she said. "Cooper's going to drive me home, and Vanessa said you can stay here until you can get a place of your own."

Blaine nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his mother's cheek before pulling away. Her eyes widened as she saw his arm in the sling, her fingers soothing over the wound gently. "I still can't believe my baby was shot," she whispered.

"I'm okay, Mom," he replied, grabbing her hands in his own, knowing she was surprised at how rough they felt. "It could have been a lot worse. And now I don't have to go back."

"You should probably have the doctor's check it out," she said after a moment.

"I know," Blaine replied. "I'm okay. Really."

She nodded and wiped the tears away from her eyes, Vanessa and Cooper coming back into the room at that moment.

"Blaine," she said before they went and sat down.

Blaine turned towards his mother again, her expression remorseful and sympathetic.

"I'm sorry about your father," she whispered. "I tried to get him to come, but…"

"It's okay," he replied, his voice stiff and taught. "I didn't expect him to want to come, anyway."

"I – I just wish that –"

"I know, Mom," he said. "I know. I do too."

* * *

><p><strong>BLAINEEEE<strong>

**STOP MAKING MY CHEST HURT**

**So this fic, from what I have written, has ridiculous amounts of Blaine's inner dialogue and his many conflicts and stuff and stuff.**

**So much blangst.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Thank you all _so much _for your love of this fic :) I'm blown away by how well this idea has been accepted, and I - just - lasjfklsdj. I love you guys. And if things go towards the worse of the scenarios, I will _always _love you all and I apologize for not finishing my fics...I hope that isn't what happens though.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys :)**

**Yes I am alive. I'm still not allowed on Tumblr yet, but hopefully I'll be back on soon :)**

**Here is the next chapter! Still angsty, (of course) but mehh. That's kind of what this fic's about :)**

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><p><em>Blaine was running.<em>

_He was running for cover, crouching and running so as to avoid any ricocheted bullets. It was the only way, really. His only hope at the moment was that all of the shots flying everywhere would miss him._

_But then he saw it. He saw Charlie, one of his fellow soldiers. He was facing away from Blaine, watching something a ways away._

_His hands were shaking, the gun in them vibrating along with them._

_Blaine knew what was happening before it fully processed in his mind. He knew that, somewhere in the distance in front of Charlie, an opposing soldier, an enemy, was taking aim at him._

_Blaine knew Charlie. He was one of the few guys that he actually talked to._

_He knew that Charlie had a wife. That he had three kids and a house in Maryland._

_Charlie had something to go back to. He had a family who was waiting for him, a family who needed him._

_So Blaine ran. He ran towards Charlie, completely forgetting about all the other shots he knew were being taken at him._

_As he neared the man, he saw the soldier squatted in the grass, his gun poised and his finger hovering over the trigger._

_Almost in slow motion, the finger ever so slightly started to press down._

_Blaine launched himself at Charlie, ignoring the shouts and hollers that pierced out around him as he tackled Charlie to the ground._

"_Dammit, Anderson," Charlie said, his eyes darting everywhere, searching for a place to hide. "I could have fucking handled that, man."_

_But Blaine didn't hear a word he said. He was on the ground, his screams so faint that he wasn't even sure anyone heard him._

_His shoulder was throbbing, his vision fading in and out with each flare of pain._

"_Fuck," Charlie said once he looked down at where Blaine was still on the ground. "Anderson, you are a fucking _idiot._"_

_Blaine, if he could have responded, would have said something about how he couldn't just stand there and watch Charlie get shot. But he couldn't talk, let alone form a coherent sentence._

_Charlie glanced around again before quickly standing up, effortless scooping Blaine up in his arms and charging back towards the medic's base. _

"_Man down!" He hollered at their fellow soldiers as he ran. "Man down!"_

_Blaine groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head a little as it felt like his arm was about to fall off._

"_Dammit, Anderson," Charlie groaned as Blaine continued to black in and out. "Just stay with me a little longer, okay?"_

_Blaine couldn't verbalize his agreement, but he did as Charlie asked._

_And as he set Blaine down onto a cot in the medic's tent, there was only one thought running through his head._

_I was shot._

* * *

><p>Blaine shot up, his breathing heavy and his shoulder throbbing.<p>

It took him a moment to remember where he was – Cooper's living room couch that Vanessa had made up for him. She had promised to clean out the guest room for Blaine tomorrow, and Blaine was more than willing to sleep on the couch for a night.

He should have expected to have a dream about that, really. Being shot isn't something that happens and then leaves a person unaffected.

He glanced over at the iPhone his mother had given him as a welcome home present, knowing that he would need one. It was 12:57, way too early for Blaine to do anything besides lay there.

Messing around with his phone for a bit, he stared at the four contacts currently in his address book.

His mom, Cooper, Vanessa, and Kurt.

Blaine had no idea what he was going to do about Kurt. For all he knew, the boy didn't want to see him again.

But Blaine knew that wasn't the truth. He'd practically told Blaine to call him, telling him that he was welcome back at any time.

He felt bad for Kurt. He'd lost both of his parents not even a year ago, and now he was left alone in his house.

Blaine couldn't even imagine.

He thought back to his brief conversation with Finn – how worried he had been about Kurt, how anxious he was about leaving.

That was a good thing, Blaine thought. As long as he kept Kurt in his mind, he had something worth coming back for.

Deciding on a whim, Blaine opened his phone again and quickly selected Kurt's contact, shooting him a quick message asking if it was the right phone number.

_Blaine?_

That was all the message said. He sent a 'yes' in return, staring at his phone for a moment as he waited for Kurt to respond.

_Why are you still awake?_

Blaine ignored his question, quickly asking his own.

_**You don't think this is weird, right? Talking to a stranger?**_

_No. If Finn asked you to do this, then I can't really bring myself stop it._

It continued on like that for a few more minutes before Kurt said he was going to bed.

Blaine shut his phone off and closed his eyes, once again trying to will his body to go to sleep. He needed to sleep, but he couldn't. His shoulder was throbbing and his mind was racing with his dream.

Charlie was still oversees. He wasn't due for discharge for another year.

Blaine hoped to God that he made it back.

He felt that he needed to get up and do something, but his body was too physically exhausted to even so much as move.

Perusing the App store, he bought a few free apps off of Cooper's account – whose password was coopcoopdodoop – and entertained himself with those for a few hours.

When his brain finally shut off, he gently placed his phone on the ground and hugged his pillow with his good hand, feeling his eyes droop shut in what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Blaine woke up to a small commotion.<p>

"Don't wake him up," a voice hissed. "He probably hasn't slept in years."

"Shut up," another voice said. "You're being louder telling me not to wake him up then I was."

Blaine stirred. He recognized those voices – voices he hadn't heard since a week before he boarded the plane.

"David, shut _up," _the first voice said again. "Look, he's moving. You woke him up, you idiot."

Blaine groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his good hand, slowly hoisting himself up so that he was in the sitting position.

When the two figures in the couch across from him came into focus, Blaine felt a huge smile breaking out onto his face.

"Wes," he breathed. "David."

The two boys launched themselves next to Blaine, being careful not to jostle his shoulder.

"Anderson," Wes said, narrowing his eyes at him. "Why the actual _fuck _did you not come home for three years?"

Blaine sighed and shrugged, wincing as a small amount of pain shot up his shoulder.

"Don't do that, man," David told him. "God, Blaine, look at you. You're…different."

"What happened to dapper, pristine Blaine? Warbler Blaine?" Wes added, his eyes worried and a small crease in his forehead.

"He's still in here somewhere," Blaine answered. "It's just a matter of finding him again. I'm not sure he'll be around for a while."

Wes took in his appearance, grinning as he saw Blaine's short hair. "Ah, that's why you look so off," he said. "Your long, luscious helmet of gel hair is no longer present."

"Oh, that'll be the first thing I bring back," Blaine said, a small smile on his lips. "I miss my hair."

The three fell silent, Blaine staring down at his hands as he practically felt Wes and David's worried eyes on him.

"Are you okay?" David asked after a moment. "No PTSD or anything?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he said. "Just a few dreams here and there about…" Blaine trailed off and tapped his shoulder gently, showing his two friends what he was talking about.

"What was it like?" Wes asked. "Is it as bad as it's said to be?"

"It's the worst thing you could ever experience," Blaine whispered hesitantly, but as soon as it was out of his mouth he realized that he _needed _to talk about it to someone. "It just pierces through you, and the only thought coursing through your head is 'I'm dying.'"

"Even if –"

"Even if you actually aren't," Blaine finished for David. "Because you might as well be. Hell, depending on how much pain you can handle, you might even rather die than go through that."

And again they fell silent, Blaine silently hoping that they wouldn't ask him any more questions about that.

"Cooper and Vanessa left for work a few hours ago," Wes said. "And your mom called me and said that she scheduled you a doctor's appointment today for you arm."

Blaine nodded, checking the time on his watch and noting that it was almost noon.

"Since you can't really drive yet," David said. "Wes agreed to drive you." He glanced at his own watch before standing up. "I've actually got to get to work though," he said. "I just wanted to come and see how you were doing."

Blaine smiled at him and nodded, giving him a soft "Thank you" as he left.

"Alright, Blainers," Wes said, standing up and dusting off his pants. "Let's get you dressed and over to the doctor's, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Blaine hated the doctor's. He'd grown so used to medics, who were acclimated with war injuries and didn't even bat an eye at gunshot wounds and dismembered limbs.<p>

But suburban doctor's, especially in a small town in Ohio, didn't get many cases like that.

"Well, Mr. Anderson," Dr. Rinn said as she came back into the room, holding a clipboard. "Your shoulder is not infected. However, it won't be as functional as before, but maybe with a little therapy we could make it a little better…"

Blaine nodded, watching as her eyes scanned him with sympathy.

"Blaine," she said, using his first name this time. She sat down across from him, watching his expression carefully. "I can't help but notice…but you aren't quite acting like what I would expect a man who had just been shot to act like."

Blaine shrugged with his one shoulder – something he'd mastered within the last hour. "I dunno," he said. "I mean, yeah it still scares the shit out of me, but…"

She nodded. "Are you in a relationship?" She asked, and Blaine, in that moment, realized that she _was _checking him for PTSD, even though the medics had already done a thorough examination for any signs. But he humored her, knowing that it was her job.

"No," he said, not going into details. She didn't need to know that he was gay, or that there were only a small handful of gay boys in Ohio.

"What is your relationship like with your family?"

"I get along well with my brother and mother," he said quickly, hoping she wouldn't catch the fact that he hadn't mentioned his father.

"And your father?"

Damn.

"We don't necessarily get along," Blaine explained tentatively.

She nodded and wrote something down. "Well, Mr. Anderson," she said. "You're certainly stable and don't seem to have any signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Blaine nodded, even though he already knew that.

She did a few more quick exams before quickly writing him a prescription for some pain medication.

He quickly exited the building, glad to see that Wes was already outside waiting for him.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

"She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

Wes nodded as they drove out of the parking lot. "Cooper told me that you're kind of watching out for someone," he said tentatively as they drove back to Cooper's house.

Blaine nodded his head. "Another soldier came up to me at the airport and asked me to look after his brother," Blaine explained slowly. "Their parents died not even a year ago. He has no one."

Wes nodded, casting Blaine a sideways glance before smirking. "Cooper also tells me that he's gay?"

Blaine laughed, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again, where Wes and David had attempted to set him up with any possibly gay man ever to exist.

"Yes, Wes," Blaine laughed. "He's gay."

"Think anything will happen there?"

Blaine did his one shouldered shrug, watching his fingers toy together as he felt a small blush creep onto his cheeks.

"Blaine!" Wes gasped. "You're blushing!"

"Am not," Blaine mumbled.

"You are!" Wes let out a giggle – yes, a giggle – letting go of the steering wheel for a moment to clap his hands together excitedly. "He's cute, isn't he? Blaine, you should totally go for it!"

"I just got home from war, Wes," Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes. "I barely think I'm ready for a relationship. And I've only seen him once."

"Sometimes that's all it takes, Blaine," he said. "Ever heard of love at first sight?"

Blaine scoffed and shook his head. "Fairy tales don't exist for people like me in Ohio," he said softly.

"Did you ever think," Wes started, "that it's only because you don't believe anything like that could happen to you?"

Blaine remained silent, staring out of the dashboard, willing the car to just arrive at the house already.

"I know you, Blaine," Wes whispered. "And I know you want a happy ending."

"Well so far," Blaine said, his voice soft and forlorn. "My life isn't really going in that direction, is it?"

Wes sighed, but didn't respond for a few moments. "Well you're home now," he replied softly. "So maybe now's your chance to start."

* * *

><p><strong>Don't fret, Darlings! Kurt's in the next chapter!<strong>

**Although I have to say...that he's all weepy and stuff and stuff...**

**MY POOR BABIES**

**WHY DO I TORTURE THEM SO MUCH**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

**Thank you all _so much _for your love of this fic and for your concerns and stuff. I'm kind of laying low and under the radar for now, not writing as much (barely at all...this fic's about all i'm writing at the moment) but...yeah :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Welp**

**Sorry for the wait...My writing mojo is lost at the moment :/ This is the last chapter I have written, which means that the next update is whenever I get the next chapter written...**

**Le sighs. I'm really out of it because of the whole tumblr thing.**

**Hopefully I'll be back on soon...but idk...it's difficult to tell...**

**Anyway, enjoy. This should tug at your heartstrings.**

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><p>It's on Wes's insistence the next time he goes to visit Kurt.<p>

"You said so yourself," Wes says as he drives the short route through Lima a few days later. "He's alone, and he has no one except for you – the random stranger who showed up at his doorway."

Blaine huffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arm over his chest and staring out the window.

"And besides," Wes went on, and Blaine could hear the smirk in his voice. "How are you going to woo the guy if you never see him?"

"Wes…" Blaine sighed, trailing off and taking a deep breath.

"I know, I know," Wes replied. "You don't think you're ready for a relationship, you just got back from war, you still don't know where your life is going, blah blah blah."

"I just don't want to rush into something, Wes," Blaine said slowly. "I don't want to start something with Kurt and then have it not be what I want. Or what he wants. We've both been through a lot, from what I can gather, and starting something too quickly that isn't going to work won't do us any good."

"Always a man of logic." Wes pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, ushering for Blaine to hop out. "Are you just going to walk home?" He asked as Blaine opened the door.

"I'll call you if I need a ride," Blaine told, giving him a small smile before going to close the car door.

"Sweep him off his feet!" Wes called out the window as he pulled out of the driveway.

Blaine laughed and shook his head as he walked up to the front door. Wes, even though it'd been three years, still was the same Dalton boy Blaine knew all those years ago.

As he went to knock, Blaine replayed the same phrases that had been running through his head the whole drive to Kurt's house.

_Watch what you say._

_Don't say anything you'll regret._

_Don't talk about the war._

_Don't make him uncomfortable._

_Keep it light and easy._

_Keep his attention away from your arm._

He rapped on the door twice before dropping his arm, rocking a little on his heels anxiously as he waited for the door to open.

A few minutes passed, and Kurt still hadn't come to the door.

Blaine glanced behind him again, noting that Kurt's car was in the driveway. So he was home, it was just a matter of why he wasn't answering the door. He let a few more minutes pass, his heart speeding up a little at the thought of something bad happening to Kurt. What if someone had broken in? What if he was now unconscious and dying? What if –

Blaine groaned and tried to clear his mind of those thoughts. He should have guessed that the war would have made him over exaggerate everything, that he would always jump to the worst conclusions. Because, when you were at the end of the enemy's gun, that's what tended to happen.

He slowly placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it, poking his head inside once the door was opened enough.

"Hello?" He called in, his eyes scanning the family room. "Kurt?"

He heard a faint scuffling sound and some murmuring before Kurt was rushing towards him, Blaine noting that his hair was a little askew as he ushered Blaine in.

"Sorry," he murmured, helping Blaine out of his jacket. For it being early fall, it was colder than Blaine would have liked. And the fact that his arm was in a sling didn't make jacket wearing any easier. "I didn't hear you."

Blaine nodded and turned to look at Kurt, his eyes widening and his heart throbbing a little as he saw Kurt's face. His forehead was creased with frown lines, his eyes red and swollen, tear stains streaking down his cheeks.

Kurt had been crying.

Kurt hung up Blaine's jacket and plopped himself down on the couch, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face with his hand.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked hesitantly, going to sit in the chair across from Kurt. And, god, he _knew _Kurt wasn't okay. From the look on his face, it looked like he was _far _from okay. He hesitated for a moment, hovering over the chair before deciding against it and going to sit next to Kurt on the couch. "I mean," Blaine amended after a moment, "Do you…want to talk about it?"

Kurt didn't respond for a few minutes. Blaine could hear him trying to control his breathing, his hands remaining pressed against his eyes, his body facing away from him.

"Kurt?" Blaine pressed on once it was clear Kurt wasn't going to talk. "Kurt, please…"

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. "It's just…it's only been a year since they died. I – I haven't really been alone since then."

Blaine took a deep breath and scooted a little closer to him, his eyes worried as he looked at the man next to him. "I understand," he replied softly. "If there's anyone to talk to about being alone, it's me."

Kurt looked up then, his eyes red and worn and bloodshot. "I keep forgetting you were overseas for three years," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Please, stop apologizing," Blaine said. "You aren't doing anything wrong."

"I know," he whispered. "But – I just – it's so _empty."_

Blaine sighed but nodded, glancing around the house. "My brother's house is about five minutes from here," he said after a few moments. "You can stop by whenever you want."

"They don't even know me," Kurt went on. "And – I couldn't just –"

Blaine held his good hand up, signaling for Kurt to stop talking. "They already know about you, and how I'm looking out for you," he told him. "They wouldn't question you."

The two fell silent again, Kurt looking around and sighing. Blaine remembered Finn saying something about how Kurt went to school in New York, how he'd had a boyfriend and how he'd moved back once their parents died.

He couldn't imagine having to go through any of that. Sure, what he went through was bad enough, but still. Kurt was so young. He had a family, a loving one, from the looks of it. And now – they were all gone.

And then there was Blaine, with his screwed up family, juxtaposed by love and hatred, acceptance and resentment. But they were all very much alive, no matter how tattered they were.

Blaine was torn out of his thoughts by a small, warm body cuddling into his side. He glanced over to see tears streaming out of Kurt's eyes again, his arms winding around Blaine's waist, burying his head into his good shoulder as he was careful not to jostle the other one.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice muffled by Blaine's shirt. "But – I – it's so _hard."_

Blaine was frozen for a moment. He didn't know what he should do, if he should comfort Kurt or just let him cry into his shoulder or –

But the fact that Kurt was cuddling into a complete stranger clearly meant something, so Blaine wrapped his arm around his shoulders and hugged him gently. He shushed him quietly, murmuring softly, trying to get him to calm down.

"I miss them," Kurt cried, so quietly that Blaine almost couldn't hear him. "I miss them _so much. _It hurts every day, Blaine. And – they're all gone. I have no one."

"Finn," Blaine reminded him. "Finn will come back."

"You can't know that."

Blaine sighed and lifted his head up to meet Kurt's eyes. "He'll come back, Kurt," he whispered. "He'll come back."

Kurt dropped his head back down again and continued crying. His tears soaked into Blaine's t-shirt, but Blaine couldn't care less.

Once Kurt's tears died down and his breathing returned to almost normal, Blaine felt him close his eyes. He watched as his breathing calmed down even more, and he wondered if he fell asleep.

"A year ago," Kurt murmured a few minutes later, startling Blaine. "I was living in New York. I had a boyfriend, I was going to graduate from college in a few months. I had everything."

He could feel Kurt shaking a little. Blaine tightened his arm around Kurt's shoulders a little, offering him his silent support, saying without words that he didn't have to do this, that it wasn't necessary. But Kurt shook his head and went on.

"And then, around the beginning of December, my phone rang," he whispered. He let out a dry laugh, his eyes distant as if remembering it. "I remember I was sitting in a café with Declan – my boyfriend at the time – and I fished my phone out of my pocket. It was Finn, so I just turned it on silent and slid it into my bag."

Blaine gulped, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face.

"And then, later that night, I had five new voicemails," he said, so quietly Blaine had to strain to hear him. "The first one from Finn, telling me our parents had been in a car accident and were in the hospital." Kurt took a shaky breath, his eyes misting a little as he continued. "The second, also from Finn, telling me that they were in critical condition and that I should see if I could come home."

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, "You don't have to –"

Kurt shook his head again, the tears leaking out of his eyes. "The third was the same, and then the fourth one was from Finn again, saying that they didn't know if they were going to make it."

Kurt broke off for a moment, letting out a small sob.

"And the last one was from the hospital," Kurt whispered. "Exactly five hours after Finn's first call. They were calling to tell me that my father and stepmother were killed in a car accident, and that I should return home to sort out the files and papers and things."

"It takes three hours by plane to get to Ohio from New York," Kurt said. "If – If I would have answered Finn's call, I – I probably would have been able to see them one last time."

Kurt's voice faded away, the silence almost being too much for Blaine to bear.

After a few minutes, Kurt went on. "By time everything was sorted and I was out of what's known as the mourning period, I had missed to much school," he said. "So I dropped out. Declan brought all my stuff home, gave me a small kiss, and then told me that he didn't think things were going to work out between us."

Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat. What boy in his right mind had the right to tell Kurt, after just losing his parents, that things weren't going to work out between them? God, Kurt was beautiful, smart, witty –

And wow, where had all _that _come from?

"And, just like that, I'd lost everything important to me in the span of two months."

Kurt was sobbing again, except this time, Blaine didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry for laying all this on you," Kurt whispered after a moment.

Blaine let out a dry chuckle, unconsciously tightening his grip on Kurt a little bit. "Hey, I'm the one who showed up on a stranger's front porch and introduced myself," he said. "I think I should be the one apologizing."

Kurt laughed into his shoulder, burrowing his head into Blaine's neck a little. "I'm glad you did," he murmured after a moment.

Blaine sighed, his eyes never leaving Kurt's head. "Me too," he whispered, brushing a wisp of Kurt's hair off of his forehead. "I'm glad I did, too."

* * *

><p><strong>They're both just messes, aren't they?<strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

**Thank you all so much for your love and reviews and stuff :) I love you ALL and honestly, you're what keeps me writing. That an, yanno, my love for kurt and Blaine...**


	6. Chapter 6

**So hi guys :) few things :) I may be changing my pennname...just for precaution (I'd change it to orderofthewarbler)...and I should be back on my blog tomorrow, but it's going to have a different URL which I haven't decidet on yet. as of right now I'm temporarily blogging at freelancewarbler, do you can go follow me there until I'm back on my oldblog. **

**Now I wrote this in the car in my phone and uploaded it and everything :) yanno, since I have 18 hours to kill**

**I think you'll allenjoy this chapter...**

* * *

><p>A few days later, Blaine was lying on Cooper's couch, just staring at the ceiling.<p>

He didn't know what to do. Regarding Kurt, that is.

He felt something for Kurt, something that he hadn't felt for anyone in a long time. And he thought that maybe it was mutual, that maybe Kurt felt something back.

But he couldn't get into a relationship. He was broken with a damaged arm, he wasn't the same as he'd once been. He used to be witty and excitable, if not a little bashful. The old Blaine used to go around singing show tunes and Top 40's, gelling his hair down in the classic school boy way, if not even more. And then, when he wasn't in his uniform and blazer, he'd wear bow ties and suspenders. That Blaine had countless of friends and would have done anything for his family.

Blaine sighed and turned a little on the couch. He didn't know how he had changed so much, or even when. It wasn't gradual like he figured it would have been. And, now that he was thinking about it, he hadn't even realized how much he'd changed until he was back where he used to be, where everyone knew the old Blaine.

Bottom line, he was changed and damaged, and he didn't know how anyone could even so much as look at him without realizing that.

Blaine groaned again and shifted back to his original position. What was he even doing in the house when it was 2 in the afternoon?

The old Blaine wouldn't have been doing this.

Before Blaine could do any more thinking, he saw Cooper's head pop into the room from the reflection in the television.

"Hey, B," he said, walking into the room and plopping himself down at the end of the couch and propping Blaine's feet in his lap.

Cooper had said that so many times before in the past. He would walk into Blaine's bedroom when he came him for the weekends, or the occasional day in the summer when he'd come and visit for a day, he'd find Blaine and walk in with a "Hey, B," and then do exactly what he'd just done.

Blaine sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Cooper's gaze heavy on his face.

"What's up?" He asked after a few moments of silence. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"No shit," Blaine all but hissed, "that's the problem."

Cooper sighed and nodded, staring out the window across the couch. "I didn't mean like that," he said. "I just meant since the last time you went to visit Kurt."

Kurt's name sent Blaine's heart fluttering, and he mentally scolded it and gently told it to cut it out.

Blaine didn't respond and avoided his brother's gaze.

Cooped had never been oblivious. He noticed and knew everything.

So what he said next shouldn't have surprised Blaine.

"You like him."

Blaine's eyes widened and he shook his head. "I - no," he stuttered. "No I don't."

"Yes," Cooper smirked, "you do."

Blaine groaned and picked a pillow up off the floor, shoving it in his face and effectively hiding himself from Cooper.

"But since that's not even a question," Cooper went on, "I want to know why it's such a problem for you to like him."

The look Cooper was giving him, the omniscient one, the same one he'd given Blaine time and time again, made him squirm a little, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over him again.

"Because I'm not who I used to be."

"People change, Blaine."

Blaine sighed. "Yeah, we'll I'm really not who I used to be. You guys wouldn't have known it was me if I didn't look almost the same."

Cooper sighed and studied Blaine again. Blaine squirmed under his gaze a little, not knowing what his brother was thinking or what he would say.

"I'm like a completely different person that who you guys knew."

"But Kurt doesn't know that."

And there it was.

Blaine had been looking for a reason, and Cooped had practically handed one right to him.

"I'm broken, Coop."

"And, from what you told me, so is he."

"I can't imagine putting two broken people together could end well."

Cooper sighed and patted Blaine's knee as he stood up. "Or maybe," he said slowly, "that's exactly what two broken people need."

Cooper started to walk out of the living room, pausing right before the doorway.

"Sometimes it takes two halves to make a whole," he said softly. "So maybe it takes two broken people to make a person, like who you used to be."

Cooped walked out of the room then, and Blaine had only one thought.

"I need to talk to Kurt," he whispered to himself, reaching out to grab his phone off of the coffee table.

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know what he was getting himself into. All he knew was that Blaine had called him, asking him to meet him at the Lima Bean in ten minutes.<p>

He'd obviously obliged, but that didn't make him any less weary about what was going to happen.

All he really knew about Blaine was that Finn had sent him, he was a discharged soldier with an injured arm, and that he was obviously suffering from multiple worries.

But, despite how little he knew about Blaine, he felt closer to him than anyone ever since he poured his heart out to him.

God, sometimes it sucked being lonely.

He'd had the perfect life in high school. The perfect family, the perfect future.

And then he'd moved to New York, and it got even better. He got an internship, and a boyfriend who liked him and told him he was beautiful.

And then he'd lost everything, and everything he was familiar with was gone.

Kurt sighed as he pulled into the parking lot. Blaine wasn't what he was used to, but maybe, just maybe, that's what he needed in order to move on.

He opened his door, spotting Blaine's car a few spots away.

Blaine's tone had sounded serious, almost urgent. But then again, Blaine, at least so far, had come off as a very serious person.

He had been in war for years though. He supposed that was a normal occurrence for war veterans.

As he made his way to the coffee shop door, he realized that Blaine wasn't anything like Declan, or his dad or mom or Finn. He was completely his own.

And because of that, he wasn't a constant reminder of everything Kurt lost.

Kurt reached his hand out and gripped the handle, but someone from the inside came rushing out, surprising Kurt as they gripped his shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, trying to get out of the person's way, "I can just -"

But then a smooth pair of lips were on his, efficiently cutting him off.

The overwhelming smell of Blaine filled his brain, his lips tingling and sparks flying down his back where Blaine's hands were gripping him.

It wasn't like any kisses with Declan had been. No, compared to this kiss, those had been far inferior.

Blaine's lips moved softly against his own, each movement sending a spark through Kurt's body.

When Blaine pulled away, Kurt opened his eyes and let out a soft laugh as Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt's.

Blaine's hazel eyes bore into his own, and Kurt leaned in and pressed their lips together again, moving his arms to wrap around Blaine's neck and pull him closer.

"I'm broken," Blaine whispered against his lips. "I'm so broken, Kurt."

"So am I," Kurt breathed in reply.

"Are you sure you want this? I didn't even ask you, and I just kind of pounced you, and we've only known each other for a few weeks, and oh god you think it's too fast -"

Kurt laughed again and pressed another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure," he breathed, hoping his eyes said everything he couldn't. "You're exactly what I need."

* * *

><p><strong>Teehee :)<strong>

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